Blame it on the Village Idiot
by eleroo02
Summary: A Will Allan fic that examines what if the two had met before Robin came back, before they had a larger cause to unite them. Basically, a look at how circumstances affect relationships.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Robin Hood or The Black Cauldron._

_A/N: While I've hit a rut on "The Leather Mafia" I decided to indulge once again in a Will/Allan fic that I've been kicking around in this brain of mine for awhile. Hope you enjoy and reviews are appreciated!

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_So this is Nottingham_, Allan A Dale mused to himself. The area didn't strike the arrogant thief as a place worth stopping, but his food supplies were low and it had been months since his last scam; the instinctive liar was restless. _What should it be this time? The blind beggar or perhaps the charming thatcher, that one went over well with those nuns. _Allan chuckled to himself at the memory, earning strange yet sympathetic looks from the villagers. _The village idiot it is then_, Allan confirmed. _Now who should be my first mark?_

Allan and his rumbling stomach were delighted to see a nearby hut where a long haired man was working over some wood in the yard and his wife toiling over a small but tidy garden. A young brown-haired kid shot arrows in a bale of hay as his older brother watched before heading over to their father._ They look like kind people…perfect._

Allan adopted a loping gait as he headed towards the kneeling woman. "Munchies…munchies and crunchies?" he asked, bending over and playing with some of the dirt that was in a tidy pile next to the woman. The woman looked over him, compassion shining through wearied eyes.

"Actually, we are getting ready to eat soon. There should be enough stew for one more mouth; we would be pleased to host you for dinner. Do you have a name? I am Jane."

"Name? Name…Jane."

"Come with me," she said, taking Allan's hand. "Why don't you meet my family? This is my youngest son, Luke. And here is my husband, Dan, the village carpenter. And this handsome lad is William, my oldest."

The men in her family merely nodded, the youngest, Luke, covertly watched in fascination. "This young man is to join us for supper, and as it should be ready now, why don't you wash up. And Luke, I will be inspecting you, so wash up well."

Dan gave his wife a long stare, and with a sigh he followed his son Luke to the bucket by the door. William, however, stayed behind. With a distrustful glare at the stranger, he took his mother's hand and led her a few paces from the drooling blond. Allan hummed a ditty and twirled around the yard, all the while listening to their conversation.

"Mom, we barely have enough food as is, and you haven't been eating enough. We can't feed a stranger."

"He has even less than we do, William. Count your blessings that we have all of our wits, our strength and each other. We can help this poor young man have at least one decent dinner, who knows when he will eat next. We may not have much money at the moment, but we can still be kind to our own. Now hush, I expect you to be courteous tonight."

With a kiss to Will's cheek, Jane Scarlett headed towards the now cavorting Allan A Dale, placing a hand on his shoulder and leading him towards her home. "I just don't trust him," Will muttered. Stalking in on legs still determined to grow, Will Scarlett wanted to make sure this village idiot didn't hurt his mother.

....

The meager rabbit stew hadn't assuaged Will's hunger or his anger as he watched his mother take only two bites, too busy praising the idiot's juggling skill with the knives. Bitter, Will briefly imagined the large knife slipping and injuring the giggling fool. With an unintelligible excuse, Will made his exit into the night, unmindful of his mother's sigh or his father's tightened fist.

Allan A Dale watched the eldest son flee, forcefully shoving his hand under his legs to stop himself from cleansing his mouth. This wasn't his favorite con, and circumstances weren't proving as profitable as he would have liked. The Scarletts were a kind family, but as badly off as most of their neighbors, and Allan knew they would have no more to offer him. He briefly flirted with the idea of stealing some of Dan's tools and the few blankets they possessed but decided against such a scheme. He knew poverty when he saw it, and they had been kind enough to offer all they had for dinner. Trying not to feel guilty everytime he saw the sunken cheeks of Jane and Dan, Allan planned to make his escape and leave the town of Nottingham behind. Hopefully there would be better pickings at a nearby village, Nottingham was a dying town.

In the midst of the conversation, Allan A Dale got up, bowed to the lady of the house and skipped his way out the door singing a vulgar song he had learned recently at a particularly memorable pub. The results were a laughing Dan, a blushing Jane, and a young Luke having his ears covered by his mother; and not a single one of them following behind. Once out of the hut, Allan wiped his mouth clean and straightened his cape.

"That's more like it. Charming family, but they'll have to be more careful about who they trust." Allan pulled his cloak tighter across his body as the wind strengthened. "I'll leave the blankets for them, but maybe I will help myself to those tools. Maybe I could get a good enough price for them to get a better cloak, this one has seen better days."

Heading over to the work area in the yard, Allan perused through the old but well-cared for tools. Picking up a hammer, he turned to find Will Scarlett looming behind him, axe in hand.

"Well, idiot, where do you think you're going with that?"


	2. Chapter 2

"I've got a hammer," Allan A Dale blurted, frozen in place, but arm held up in an attack position.

"And I have an axe," the taller boy replied. "I guess we'll see which has the longer reach, but my money would be on the axe."

"And so would mine, but of course, that would be if I was a betting man. Now why don't we put these silly little toys down and talk about this like grown men," Allan chuckled humorlessly, letting the hammer drop to the grass by his feet.

The eldest Scarlett boy loosened his grip but didn't drop the weapon. "You're lying. Something tells me you are a betting man, but you bet on the wrong family. You are going to follow me and we're going to find the Sheriff. Maybe he'll even give me some money as a reward for your worthless hide. It will go towards paying us back for that food which you stole."

"Now now, boy, it's not stealing if it was freely given, as it was by your mother. I can't help if these blue eyes of mine are popular with the ladies. And since no harm was done, and you don't seem the ruthless type Will, it was Will wasn't it? Well, Will, since you aren't ruthless why don't you put down the axe and let me go my merry way." Allan smiled, hoping to stop the boy from advancing even farther towards the thief. Why had he dropped the hammer? He had nothing but his wits against this youth, and while formidable, he didn't know if they could help him this time.

"Ruthless, huh? No, that would make me too much like you. You are more disgusting than maggots; preying on innocent, hard-working people. You cheat them out of food, money, anything they have. You would be better locked up in a cell, or perhaps even hanged for your crimes. Our sheriff does certainly like the hanging." Will spat, his grip tightening on the axe.

"Your sheriff also seems to enjoy letting his people reign in poverty, while he sits pretty in that castle over there, wouldn't you say?"

"We're not talking about the sheriff, we are talking about you," Will responded. But Allan could see the confusion arising in those large green eyes. Allan suppressed his grin; the boy was coming around right where the thief wanted.

"This sheriff is just like all the authority figures from my past, those who could care less about you, only themselves. You may be starving, but as long as they have their venison drenched in honey with the finest wines, they could care less. Tell me, at his last feast, what did your precious sheriff have to eat?"

"Rosie said the food made the tables creak at the weight."

"And did Rosie get to have any of that food?"

"No." Will admitted, axe falling to his side. "The servants are never allowed to eat the master's food."

"So there's not enough food here, but at least the taxes are low, right?"

"No," Will said again, frustration clearly evident upon his features.

"And so it is that the management of this here town leaves you poor workers to fend off this cruel world yourselves. I'm just like you, my friend; just a tired soul trying to survive in this world."

"By stealing," Will shot back, the venom gone for now, but Allan could tell it could reappear at any moment.

"It's what I've been forced to become, say, how would you like to earn some extra money for your family? Some money for food or maybe even a nice scarf for your mother, does that sound nice?"

"Food and money, yes, they sound good. But I will not steal, I was raised better."

Allan visibly flinched and struggled to hold down his anger. He had made it this far, he wouldn't ruin it now, no matter how much his temper was flaring. "You wouldn't be stealing, just assisting me in a small business venture. We'll split the profits and then, you and me, we'll go our separate ways. Interested?"

Allan could see the turmoil in those expressive eyes and face as Will considered various possibilities. "What kind of business venture?" the Scarlett boy asked.

"Can't tell you unless you agree, I don't need you running off to the guards."

"But we wouldn't be hurting or stealing from these people?"

"Not unless you want to, but I for one, don't intend to either hurt or steal. So are you in?" Allan needled.

"What about my family?"

"Tell them you are going out hunting, or have a job or something. I'm sure you can come up with something."

"I've never lied to them before."

"Then don't lie. The best way always lies in half-truths."

Will glared at the glib man before him, "Fine, I'm coming with you, but you will have absolutely nothing else to do with my family. You'll sleep out here tonight, by the woodpile. And just to make sure you don't run off in the night…" Allan A Dale gulped as Will Scarlett put the axe to his neck, long fingers quickly finding the thief's meager moneybag. "This stays with me tonight," the boy told Allan.

"A'right, a'right, I'll see you in the morning lad. Say, do you have any spare blankets lying about, it's a bit cold tonight."

Will shoved him away and headed back inside, calling over his shoulder, "I guess we'll see just how strong your survival really is. Have a pleasant evening, idiot."


	3. Chapter 3

Will Scarlett stood over the huddled blond man, prodding him awake with the butt of his axe. The blond man ceased snoring, and poking an eye open studied the tall kid. "What is it with you and axes?" he yawned.

Will said nothing and with a roll of his eyes, Allan A Dale stood up, brushed the dirt of his clothes, gingerly draped the thin blanket over the woodpile and gave a large grin. "Breakfast?"

Will glared and Allan shrugged. "So you're not a morning person. Fine. But to not feed a guest? That's just rude. Well, if that's all, then let's be off." A jaunty tune whistled its way out of the thief's mouth as he walked away with a flourish of his cape. Expecting the young man to follow, Allan walked in a random direction with no certain destination in mind. For nearly an hour the two walked in silence, finally coming to a stop deep within the forest.

"I'm not entirely familiar with the area, so you are going to have to talk, oh silent one. Where is a good place for our plan?" Allan asked.

"Nowhere," was the droll response. "But, we're near Nettlestone Village."

"Well, any village will do. Which way?"

Will pointed in a southeastern direction and the two started walking again. "And we will not take everything they own, got it?"

"Yeah, man, I've got it. You would make a horrible thief you know, all these silly rules of honor you seem to have."

"I take that as a compliment."

"You say that now, boy. But wait until your family can no longer support you. Wait until you are penniless, starving, and it's you versus the world. It's no longer about living with honor; hell, it's no longer lying or stealing. It's called surviving."

Will didn't respond and Allan strode off, wanting to put some distance between him and his new partner; cursing himself for even taking the boy along. He should have clubbed him over the head an hour ago and scampered off, rather than deal with Scarlett's stony silences, mighty righteousness, and the wave of memories the boy was invoking.

"What's your name, your real name," the boy finally asked.

"Allan. Allan A Dale," the blond called over his shoulder. Thirty-four paces later, Allan was the one to initiate a question. "Is your mum's stew always so good?"

"Yes," and Allan could hear the smile in the kid's voice. "My father says that's why he married her." Thirty paces later. "Do you have any family, Allan?"

"Yeah. But that's all I can tell you. Don't know if any of them are alive still or not." Twenty-three paces later. "That blanket really helped last night."

"I couldn't sleep. Didn't need you dying by natural causes, you've cheated me out of enough already."

"Fair enough," Allan said with a smile. Ten paces later and the two were walking side by side, a small but tidy village in sight.

"So is this Nettlestone?" Allan asked.

"I think so," Will replied. "It's been a few years. My father had a commission and I helped him build and deliver some furniture for the Earl's manor."

"Would you be recognized?" Allan asked tersely.

"I don't think so. I've grown a bit since then."

"Good. Still, to be safe I think we'll keep you hidden in the background."

"Dare I ask if you have a plan?"

"Is it my first time?"

When Will glared, Allan hurriedly kept talking. "We're novice monks in town to collect some money for the poor. We are in such desperate need for money that our order can't even afford robes for us monks. Pretty good, huh?"

Will crossed his arms, shaking his head. "No. No way am I pretending to be a holy man."

"There's nothing wrong with it."

"Yes, there is. To normal, decent people, there is most definitely something wrong with impersonating a monk. There has to be another plan."

"The monk plan works best, I'm telling you! It is genius in its simplicity, and our haul is guaranteed!"

"Find something different!" Will demanded.

"Why don't you come up with a plan, holy sir?" Allan challenged.

"Just say we're far from home, and we need money to get back to our village."

"Talk about simple," Allan snorted. "But it's not a bad start. We're brothers…"

"Who'd believe we're brothers?" Will interrupted.

"They'll believe anything I tell them to believe," Allan reassured. "We're the sons of some highborn lord, on our way to meet Prince John. Your dad said something about bandits in the forest last night; we'll just say that we were robbed by those bandits. All we need from the kind villagers are some money, new clothes and maybe a horse or two to make it to the Prince. And we'll make sure the Prince knows of the kindness of these villagers, and they will be repaid and rewarded."

"I don't know," Will said dubiously. "I don't know if they will believe it; I'm starting to think we're going to hang from the gallows for this. And I really don't want to die next to you."

"Don't get scared on me now, Will. This might work better than the monk plan after all! Just trust the village idiot, mate; you're in capable hands."

"We're going to die."

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A/N I hope you guys enjoyed the latest installment. Thanks to Vida Loca for the prodding and encouragement as well as HighPriestessoftheDreamWorld and Wenrom31 for reviewing. If anyone has any ideas or something they want to see in the story, let me know! Thanks for reading and reviews are appreciated and craved!


	4. Chapter 4

"No. There is no way I am following your cracked-up plan," Will spat out, brandishing his axe at the naked thief in front of him.

"Come on, Will! The story won't make sense otherwise. What sort of robbers would steal everything else and leave us with our clothes?" Allan cajoled.

"Decent ones."

"Yeah, mate, decent thieves don't exist and you know it. Besides, we're currently dressed like the other villagers. They won't believe we're nobles. At least get down to your skivvies…for your family."

"My mom didn't raise me to get naked in front of strangers."

"The human body is the most natural thing in the world. I'm sure your body isn't that bad, now off with those breeches and shirt. It'll only be a few moments of semi-nakedness for enough food to last your family the winter."

"You certainly sound like you've talked enough innocent people out of their clothes before," Will muttered, gingerly unfastening his cloak.

Allan grinned broadly in response, shrugging a nonchalant shoulder. "When you were born to please the ladies, you can't help the charm. One day you'll learn."

"Especially if I get a better role model," Will shot back.

"Now, now lad; you won't find a better role model than me. Why do you think I'm completely starkers? The ladies won't be able to resist."

Will Scarlett's snort showed Allan what he thought of that statement, and a few moments of cajoling later found the young dark-haired man down to his under-garments, a scowl in place.

"That's better, mate. I have to say though, you certainly need the meat this job will bring," Allan said inspecting Will's body. Will scowled deeper, fighting the urge to cover himself with his large hands. "But for now, let's stow our gear and weapons here, and head into town."

"The sooner this is over, the happier I'll be," Will muttered.

"Aw, won't you miss me?" Allan asked, slapping a friendly hand on Will's pale back.

"No," the younger man answered succinctly. He took a few steps forwards before stopping and turning back towards the thief. "Although you are right about me needing the meat. Allan will make a fine pig's name. This way, I'll think of you as it turns on the spit."

Allan could only chuckle as the two headed closer towards Nettlestone, walking quickly in the frigid air. In less time than it normally took Allan to finish a pint of ale, a concerned crowd of villagers had gathered around the "brothers", listening in rapt attention as Allan wove his story of forest brigands and helpless sons of nobility.

"What is going on here?" an authoritative tone asked as a ginger-haired man pushed through the crowd. The man, who Will unobtrusively revealed to Allan as the steward to Lord Fenwick, made his way to the front, stopping in shock at the sight he beheld.

"How dare you two stand here as naked as the day your unfortunate mothers birthed you! Guards, take them to the stocks; someone find some sacks to cover them."

The steward visibly bristled when no one ran forward to do his bidding. One brave elderly lady went as far as to step between the pompous steward and Allan. With a wink to Will, Allan put a hand on the woman's shoulder and stepped around her to look the steward in the eyes.

"Allow me to introduce myself and my brother. I'm Allan and this is William; we're the sons of Lord Daniel of Bristol. I'm afraid we've run into a spot of trouble in these woods of yours. We were on our way to meet with Prince John to discuss funding of the Crusades for our father when we were robbed by some brigands in the forest. Those…those dirty bandits took everything we own and now we're going to be late for our meeting with the Prince!" Allan iterated, convincingly playing the part of nobility. "Who is in charge of this town?"

"Lord Fenwick, sirs," the steward replied, obviously taken in by Allan's story as he bowed his head in their direction. Will couldn't believe it; somehow this thief had outmatched the steward in authority and pomposity. Somehow, the eyes of all the villagers were on them, pity and understanding radiating through. Somehow, they all believed his story, hell that old lady had even tried to defend him; how did he do it?

"We need to see Lord Fenwick, immediately," Allan told the redhead.

The man hesitated, "He's is unable to take visitors at this moment, but I will take the message to him."

A buxom middle-aged woman strode forward to address the steward. "The brothers can come with me; I have a room open at the Inn. And I'm sure Logan's old clothes will fit these two, if that is okay with the lordlings here," she said with a saucy wink to Allan.

"A bed sounds good at the moment, milady" Allan replied with his own brand of sauciness.

"Well, no one's ever called me milady before," she responded with a laugh. "My name is Adela, and my place is not far."

Allan offered his hand, and with more dignity than a naked man should have in Will's opinion, the two walked off chatting as Will trailed behind, his mind hard at work to comprehend how his life had turned into this. Soon they arrived at The Goat's Horn, a modest two-story inn that was well-cared for.

"It's just me now," Adela said. "My son is off fighting the war and my husband died a year ago after an accident. My two daughters are busy with their new families, and a woman can get a mite lonely," she said, looking Allan right in the eyes. "Your room is up the stairs and to the left. I'll bring you up some clothes. It's not often we get men of your high status in town, I hope my husband's and son's clothes will be enough."

"We appreciate the hospitality ma'am," Will said sincerely.

"He speaks!" Adela said with a smile. "Make yourselves at home; I'll also have some food sent up. If you need me, my room is behind the bar," she said with one last glance at Allan before leaving the room.

"We're so going to die," Will muttered, going to the small window to look out upon the town.

"Relax," Allan said. "This is just a small delay. When the Lord Fenwick becomes less indisposed, we shall make off with his money and clothes, and then we don't even hurt the villagers. I would have thought that would make you happy!"

"Nothing about this makes me happy; but that idea of robbing Fenwick is infinitely better than robbing these villagers. They've been so nice to us," Will said. "It wouldn't feel right to steal from them."

"Rest your young, passionate heart, kid," Allan said. "They're only being nice because they think us rich and able to help them. Every human being is ruled by selfishness, that's just the way life is."

Will opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Enter," Allan called out. A blushing serving-maid entered with her hands laden with various clothing, a bowl of fruit, and a bottle of wine.

"Adela sent me up with these," she said looking at the floor. "I also come with a message from Lord Fenwick. He would be honored to have you two join him for dinner tonight. He will send someone by to escort you to his home around sunset."

"Thank you for delivering the message," Will said kindly. The girl blushed harder and fled the room as soon as she placed the clothes on the bed.

"I told you the plan was working. Now all we have to do is work our magic on this Fenwick and we'll be as rich as actual nobles," Allan said smugly as he picked through the shirts on the bed. "And seeing as there's some time before dinner, I might go thank Adela; show her our appreciation for her kindness."

"I don't need to know any of this," Will muttered, hiding his faint blush as he put on some breeches.

Allan opened the door, but before leaving turned back to his disgruntled partner in crime. "Don't discount it; after all, you never know when death is coming to claim you. You might as well have some fun; I'm sure that little serving-girl who was just in here wouldn't be against it. She seems to fancy you, 'little brother'," Allan winked.

Will threw an apple at the now laughing thief who escaped through the door. "Idiot," Will muttered, his face fully aflame. _And tonight I'll see Lord Fenwick again. _Will turned back towards the window, and looked heavenwards_. Excluding this farce, I've been a good lad. Just let me see my family again, and please don't let anyone be hurt in his scam…including that idiot._


	5. Chapter 5

Sunset found Allan A Dale and Will Scarlett outside the manor of Lord Fenwick, dressed in the clothes borrowed from Adela.

"It figures these wouldn't fit," Will muttered. "And my ma says I'm still going to grow!"

"Look at it this way; you make an even more pathetic figure in too small of pants. It will work to our advantage," Allan said slightly ungraciously. "At least you're not wearing the clothes of a dead man."

"Not superstitious are you?" Will asked, eyebrow raised.

"Not at all," Allan replied too quickly to be completely believable. "It's just…ooky."

"Ooky? That's the best word you could come up with. Are you sure you can handle this? I say we go back home right away. And when I say home, I mean I go back to Locksley and you go back to stealing from old ladies in whatever town you choose to, far from me."

"Calm down, boy. I have this handled; be prepared to be amazed by the skills of Allan A Dale. You saw the villagers in the town earlier, they were eating it up. And that was just a sampling of what I offer." Allan said snidely.

"And Adela? Was she just a sampling?"

"What about her?" Allan said, grabbing Will's too small shirt and shoving him against the wall to the side of the door. "You know, you're really starting to annoy me with your self-righteous comments. How about you head home like you want to instead of whining? You'll have no money to give to poor, dear mommy, but you will be rid of me forever. How does that sound?"

"Let go of me," Will gritted through clenched teeth. Allan stared hard at him for a few more seconds before releasing the taller man and taking a few deep breaths, looking back at the town.

"Just drop your grievances and put some faith in me," Allan said his voice seemingly calm. "You may be good with wood, but I'm good with words. As for Adela, she's an adult as am I. Just because you've never been with a woman doesn't mean you have to be rude and ignorant."

Will opened his mouth to protest and restart the argument when the door opened and the steward stuck his head out of the door.

"Ah, my lord brothers, welcome to the home of Lord Fenwick. Please come in, dinner will be served presently, but firstly his lordship would like to meet you."

Allan thanked the man in the haughty voice of his and the two stepped inside, with Allan making sure to step in front of Will so that he entered first. Biting his tongue, especially when Allan gave him a cheeky side smile, Will followed the two older men into a side room where the steward gave them drinks and bade them wait for the Lord before making his exit.

A simply made, yet elegant side table stood nearby and Will couldn't stop the hand that reached out and caressed the sturdy table. A quiet smile crept upon his face as the memories it evoked took Will back seven years.

"Your dad?" Allan asked quietly, suddenly next to the startled Scarlett.

Will nodded, fingers still dancing across the oaken top. "And me," he added softly, looking over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone.

"Did you two make all of this furniture?" Allan asked, his keen eyes taking in the chairs and other table in the room.

"Yes, and some other things, such as the lord's bed," Will said, fingers stopping their waltz and tightening into a fist.

Allan observed this gesture curiously. "Well, I have to say your dad is an artisan. And if you helped, you're well on your way as well. I'm surprised you need the money what with nobility buying your services."

"Yeah," Will said shortly. "It took my dad nearly a year to finish all the pieces the Lord had commissioned. He started my apprenticeship then; one of these chairs is the first I ever made. If you look closely, you might even see my initials carved in there."

"So what's with the glum face? I would have thought the memory of baby's first chair would bring a smile, not a grimace." Allan finally asked bluntly.

"What are you on about?" Will asked, turning his face from the older man. "Now be quiet, the steward might be back at any moment."

"What are you hiding?" Allan asked, his voice raising slightly. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"I'm not hiding anything," Will insisted.

"So says the kid with clenched fists and a scowl so deeply furrowed, good luck ever getting those wrinkles out. Now tell me," Allan commanded.

Will crossed his arms in front of his chest and jutted his head up so that Allan couldn't look him in the eye. This continued for a few minutes before Allan gave a frustrated, strangled sound and stalked off to the other side of the room. Jolted by the sound, Will gave his own little sigh as he realized just how petulant and childish he was acting. He was an adult now, taking care of his family. And as an adult he would have to own up to his own little indiscretion to the sulking thief in the corner.

"The order was so big my father was unable to take in any more work. He didn't care so much because the money he was going to receive would have taken care of us for a few winters. He even had to defer Lord Robin's request to Harvey Potts, whose work is nowhere near my father's standard. We had a good time, my dad and I, but the food became less as our money dwindled. My mother took on some extra mending to help out, and I myself did a few odd jobs, but it was worth it we kept saying. My dad went on and on about the fine dresses he was going to buy my mom and the warm woolen coats he would buy Luke and me," Will spoke out to the room, eyes downcast so that he couldn't see Allan watching him closely.

"And finally the day came where the last of the order was ready, the large dining table. I came with him to deliver it; he was so excited, Allan. We delivered the table and my father waited here, in this same room, for the rest of his payment. Lord _Fenwick_ never showed up. He sent one of his servants in to escort my father out. He was then told that his work was mediocre and beneath what befits a Lord, and that he should be lucky that his lordship didn't throw my father in jail." Will finished venomously.

"And you didn't get paid," Allan prompted softly.

"No, we didn't. We were still owed over twenty gold pieces for the work," Will told him, finally looking Allan in the eye.

Allan digested the information, staying in his corner. "So you, the innocent little lamb, had an ulterior motive," he mused.

"I'm sorry for not telling you earlier, but I would have thought revenge to be a game you enjoyed," Will said hesitantly, unsure what to make of Allan's response.

"Revenge in itself is fine, hell, there's nothing higher up than avenging one's honor. But revenge that threatens the job, is a risk that shouldn't be taken, you idiot! Why the hell didn't you tell me this, we could have done something different, but now we're too far in!" Allan lectured Will as loud as he dared. "How can you be sure he won't recognize you? If you, a pasty uptight kid gets me killed, so help me I will drag you into hell with me!" Allan whispered the last part as footsteps were heard.

The steward bowed his way into the room. "Dinner is ready, sirs. The Lord is waiting for you at the table."

Allan gestured for the man to lead the way and swept up close to Will's ear to whisper his final advice. "Don't talk and avoid eye contact with Fenwick, I'll do the talking. And whatever you do, you idiot, don't let him even come near to guessing who you might be. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Will whispered back, slightly abashed but defiance remaining in the set of his shoulders.

"Good, now let's go eat and pray his lordship is as ignorant of peasant's faces as most. Hopefully this will be worth your twenty gold pieces." Allan told him before they caught up to the Steward. _And hopefully I'll never be stuck with a novice like you again_, the experienced con man thought to himself as the three entered the dining area of the manor, just as a portly middle-aged man rose from the large table in the center.

"Welcome to my home, I am Lord Fenwick."


	6. Chapter 6

"Lord Fenwick," Allan bowed his head imperceptibly.

"My lords," Fenwick returned to the younger two men. "Please have a seat. My servants have prepared a particularly fine roasted pheasant for our pleasure tonight."

"Ah, pheasant. It is one of my favorites. Our cooks back home make a glazed pheasant that even Prince John has commended," Allan said smoothly, seating himself at the table.

"Well, Prince John has yet to visit here, but I'm sure he would be singing its praise as well. His close personal friend, the Sheriff of Nottingham loves this meal," Fenwick responded with an insincere smile. "Tell me, what is the Prince like?"

Allan waved his hand in the air as if the question was insignificant. "Like most princes, powerful and cunning. A loyal supporter of those who support him," Allan said with a direct look to Fenwick.

The Lord nodded thoughtfully and they were interrupted as the servants brought the food in, causing Allan's mouth to water. Looking away, Allan discreetly wiped his mouth only to turn around and see Fenwick staring at the carpenter.

"Tell me, Lord William is it? Have we met before, perhaps at a tourney?" Fenwick asked with furrowed brow.

Will looked up from where he studied the table, startled. Looking nervously at Allan, who could only bite his lip, Will answered in a quiet voice. "I don't believe so...Lord Fenwick."

"My younger brother doesn't travel much," Allan interrupted. "He doesn't have the best constitution, always the sickly child. This was to be his first hunting trip."

"Pity it ended so unfortunately," Fenwick drawled.

"But with your help, I'm sure we can remedy this tragedy," Allan interjected smoothly. "My father would be ever so grateful once he hears the story; if only he wasn't overseas on an ambassadorial trip to the Holy Land to see the King as a favor to Prince John."

"He sounds like a busy man," Fenwick said, obviously impressed.

"The constraints of power and influence keep him busy, but such is the burden on our family. The Prince himself is grooming my brother to follow our father's footsteps," Will said, ignoring the warning look Allan shot him. _I'll show him I'm not worthless._

"And yourself, William? What service will you provide to our ruling family?" Fenwick asked, helping himself to more food.

"In whatever capacity I am needed," Will answered gravely.

"Ah, yes, my brother has quite the head for numbers. Our father hopes he will one day be the Royal Tax Advisor."

"That would be a very high position indeed," Fenwick said, his voice becoming more and more honeyed.

"Actually Lord Fenwick, I couldn't help but admire your accoutrement of the manor. This is a most fine and handsome table; it must have been very expensive."

Will gritted his teeth at the feeling of Allan's foot on his shin. Ignoring the slightly panicking thief across from him, Will took a sip from the wine goblet feeling emboldened by his newly embraced role.

"The fine things in life are often costly," Fenwick said with a pleased satisfaction. "It was crafted by a p…master carpenter from France."

"From France, huh?" Will continued. "It seems your village is quite prosperous and prompt with their taxes. I must ask how you do it, along with the name of your carpenter, master craftsmen are so hard to find nowadays."

"Good leadership guarantees good results from the peasants. As for the craftsman, he, he died," Fenwick said quickly. "This was his last piece."

"It must be quite valuable then," Will said.

"Please excuse my brother; he has this weird obsession with furniture, my lord."

"We all have our quirks," The Lord said slickly. "But are you sure we've never met? There is something very familiar about you."

"I would remember any meeting with you, I think," Will said, looking Fenwick in the eyes for the first time that night.

"He has this crazy memory," Allan laughed weakly. "Thank you for your fine dinner and hospitality this night, my lord. Perhaps you and I can continue talking and find a mutual arrangement that would benefit all of us."

"Very well," the Lord said. "I am certain we can come to an agreement, Lord Allan. Will you be joining us, Lord William?"

"My brother grows wearied easily," Allan began, stopping when Will placed a hand on his shoulder. With a sour look, Allan waited for Will to open his mouth and get them killed.

"Perhaps a servant of yours would be so kind as to lead me to a bed, as I am tired, Lord Fenwick. I will leave the discussing of services and payment to my brother for the evening," Will said, feeling the muscles in Allan's shoulder relaxing.

"Of course," Fenwick bowed graciously. "Have a pleasant sleep; my steward will show you to your chambers."

"You are most kind, my lord," Will said bowing deeply.

With his head held high, Will followed the steward out of the room and up the stairs to a large room with two beds, and a washing basin in the corner. Once he was alone, Will released a shaky breath and plopped down on the bed nearest the window. He had done it; he had actually faced Lord Fenwick. The con was almost complete, and if Allan managed to cinch the deal, which Will knew he would, then Fenwick would be duped out of his precious money. And Will and his family would finally have some revenge.

Laying in bed, Will watched the progress of the moon in the sky as he awaited Allan's return. Not more than two hours has passed when Allan entered the room, slightly drunk and jubilant. Waiting a few minutes to make sure no one was around to hear, Allan bowed deeply before Will's bed, "Dearest brother, our fine Lord Fenwick will be gifting us with two horses and forty gold coins to assist us on our journey home. We will of course let the Prince know of this generosity and give him a letter that Fenwick is currently composing."

Allan gave his biggest lopsided grin as he stripped off his jerkin and sat on the other bed. "Whadda think?"

"You have got to be the luckiest bloke that ever lived," Will said. "So we actually did it? And we didn't die?"

"We did it, mate. No thanks to you, though. What were you thinking during dinner?"

"I don't know," Will said honestly. "I'm not sure what possessed me, but…"

"But, we'll make a fine liar of you yet. For a beginner, you really do show some promise. You show a truly terrible time to start taking risks, are you sure you don't secretly have a death wish, but I have to admit you did help pull off the illusion."

"Maybe I secretly am a lord," Will said with a smile to the thief who was currently snuggling with a pillow.

"We're all lords, deep down, friend. Some are just born to the title, while the rest of us have to fight to get there," Allan replied drowsily. "Now get some rest, it's been a long day."

"Goodnight, Allan," Will said softly.

"Night, William," Allan said in his posh voice, before reverting back to his normal tone. "But if you don't shut up, I'm going to smother you with this very comfortable and rare pillow. Go to bed!"

***

The next morning found the thief and the carpenter dressed in the finest clothes either had ever worn, astride two well-bred mares, with a heavy money bag at their side. Biding farewell to the fawning Lord Fenwick, they rode off into Sherwood Forest; Allan constantly touching the gleaming sword at his side. Will watched somewhat dourly as he looked at the small, sharp knife that Fenwick had gifted to the younger.

"I never would have thought you could love something more than yourself, but then you prove me wrong," Will said as Allan caressed the sword once more.

"You wouldn't say that if you saw how you act with that damn axe," Allan rejoined quickly. "When we got to our hiding place, it was like you were reunited with your long-lost wife."

Will patted the axe that was firmly attached behind his back, feeling more comfortable. His new clothes were rolled up and safely under the saddle; it would arouse too much suspicion if he arrived back in Locksley in such finery. Allan had only picked up a few items from the hidden stash, such as his flint and bow and oddly enough, a rabbit's foot and small silver coin. Will was curious as to his selection, but didn't pry. The two continued traveling in relative silence until the path diverged, and Will started on the left fork back to Locksley only to realize Allan had stopped.

"Are you not coming back to Locksley?" Will asked surprised.

"Why, Will, do you miss me already?" Allan asked with a smile.

"No, I just…just…where are you going?"

"I think I'll go east for now. It's been awhile since I've been that way."

"Sure you don't want to come?" Allan asked suddenly, looking down.

"I thought you worked alone," Will reminded. "Besides, I need to go home."

"Home," Allan echoed softly. "Your mom is one hell of a cook, you know."

"I know," Will said.

"What you don't know, is that you'd be a good thief. You may think you're good and righteous but there is that side to you, Will Scarlett. It's just lying in wait," Allan said, with an intense look to the young, gawky lad in front of him. "And don't fight it, that's my advice. You might need it one day."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'll never be like you," Will said in indignation, dismounting. "Isn't that just like you, to ruin a goodbye."

"Fine," Allan said, with a shrug. "Bye, Will Scarlett the carpenter. Have a nice life."

"Goodbye, Allan A Dale the liar. Don't get yourself killed."

With a nod to the other, the two headed off in their opposite directions; Allan kicking his mare into a gallop and Will stalking off back in the direction of Locksley. It was time he returned home and forgot all about this mess and that damned thief. It was time to kiss his mother, practice bow shooting with his little brother, and shape the wood like his father had taught him. It was time to leave behind Lord William and become simple Will Scarlett once more, and if he never saw Allan A Dale again, his life would be perfect.

* * *

A/N: Well here is the last chapter, all that is left is a small epilogue. Hope you guys enjoyed it, I know I enjoyed writing this story. Thanks to the suggestion of VidaLoca, I'm debating a "follow-up" series. What do you guys think? Would anybody be interested in reading it?


	7. Epilogue

Will's deft fingers caressed the chair leg he had just sanded. The chair was sturdy yet beautiful at the same time, just what Lord Gisborne had desired. It had been a few years since his first chair, and Will's skill had only improved. He was taking on more and more work these days, slowly bringing out the money he had received from Lord Fenwick as 'payment' for his services. The money was stashed just inside the woods, and it had brought fortune indeed to his family. His mother's hollowed cheeks were filling out once more, and Luke's clothes were no longer threadbare. Life was good.

_I wonder how that idiot, Allan A Dale is doing?_ Will shook his head to get rid of this thought. Knowing that scamp, he was either in a prison somewhere awaiting execution or in a pub squandering away his money. _As if anyone, much less me, could figure out what his next move is to be?_ Smiling, Will let his mind wander to his one adventure with the conman, and looking around his family's small plot of land, couldn't hold back the thought of what if. What if the two had never met? What if he had gone with the thief? What if?

"Will!"

The elder Scarlett boy looked up from the chair to see his younger brother dancing around in front of him. "What is it, Luke?"

The shorter dark-haired boy looked around nervously before retelling his tale in a loud whisper. "Benedict just heard that Gisborne is going to officially take over Lord Robin's title and lands! How can he? Lord Locksley isn't even dead! When is Robin coming home to take back what's his? Can you do something?" He asked, looking up to his big brother.

Will looked down at his anguished brother, feeling the same fire of righteousness within himself. Lord Robin had cared for them, had treated them as people. And now this brooding stranger thought he could take over? Will's hand clenched the back of the chair, a smirk unfolding as his mind formulated a plan.

"We won't let him get away with this. I'll make it okay, Lukey, just trust me."

**************

Allan A Dale looked around in satisfaction, absently rolling the coins around in his hand. It had been a profitable day; his favorite. With a silent farewell to whatever town this was, the thief started to walk down the main thoroughfare of the village, ready to head on to the next. Fingering the money some more, Allan figured he had enough to buy a new bow, and resolved to do such. He had lost the last one a few months ago when he had to scamper out of the village too quick to recoup all of his belongings and Allan had been missing the bow since. _But at least I've still got Matilda_, Allan thought, caressing the sword strapped to his side.

Memories of how Allan had received the sword overwhelmed, and Allan couldn't stop thinking of his partner in crime. _I wonder if he's still making furniture. _Allan snorted in response to his own thought. _Of course he's still making furniture; he'll be making furniture until the day he dies. Not one to fight his destiny, that one, _Allan mused.

Allan was torn from his thoughts by a tugging on his cloak. Looking down Allan saw a young child in torn grey cloak, their eyes obscured by ragged red hair. Arching an eyebrow at the unknown kid, Allan waited for the kid to speak.

"Excuse me, mister," the street urchin started; voice high-pitched and measured. "But I have a proposition for you."

Intrigued despite himself, Allan waited for the child to continue. "Take me with you," was all that was said.

Allan studied the kid closer, still unsure as to the gender. An effeminate face with a smattering of freckles looked up at him, composed. The conman saw a flash of pale green behind the strands of red, and a flash of darker green as a frog wormed its way out of the child's trousers. Allan fingered the sword suggestively, and was impressed when the kid didn't move a muscle. _This kid is either stupid or brave as hell, and damn me, if I can't tell which it is. _"That's not a proposition, that's a command," was all Allan said in response.

"What's the difference?" the kid asked, voice coming out strangled towards the end.

_Ah, it's a boy!_

"If you're propositioning me, you need to convince me as to why I should take you with me," Allan told the lad.

"Oh, okay," the boy nodded in serious understanding, provoking a smile from the taller man. "You need to take me with you, or you'll regret it."

"Is that so? And I'll regret it because…"

"Because you'll get lonely, and because I'm a good pickpocket, and because…"

"Yes?"

"Because I can run really really fast and I can tell the Sheriff about how you stole his money purse."

Allan's face froze at this statement, unsure whether to laugh or strangle this oddly self-possessed rascal. Pulling his sword halfway out of the scabbard, Allan responded in as even a tone as the boy. "And what if I were to stop you right now?"

"You'd have to catch me first," the boy responded quickly, traces of a grin evident on his face.

"You're right and I'm feeling tired today," Allan allowed with his own smile, sheathing his sword. "You can keep me company until we get to the next village. Maybe you'll be worth a couple of laughs, know any jokes?"

"No," the boy shrugged, kicking the dirt in front of him as he the two walked down the road side by side.

"Got a name?"

The boy nodded at this. "Croaker."

"Croaker? You call that a name?" Allan asked in disbelief.

"That's what the other kids called me; it stuck. A name is just a name, right?"

"Uh, sure," Allan said, unsure what to say back. Who was this kid? "How close is the next village?"

"About a day's walk," Croaker said.

"A whole day, huh?"

"Yes. Know any good stories?" Croaker asked, skipping ahead a few paces before veering off the path to closer examine a small bird asleep on a low branch.

Allan watched this play out in disbelief and a little annoyance. _Why did I agree to this? At this pace, it'll be longer than a day. He has the attention span of a gnat! I guess it better be a hell of a good story._

"Well, little Ginger, let me tell you about a town called Locksley and a con known as the Village Idiot…"

* * *

Well, this is officially the end... I hope you enjoy this little segue into the upcoming 'series'...but this is where I could use your guy's help. I have no idea what to call the series...so please input your suggestions and if I like any of them, it'll become the name of the story and you will get full credit! Thanks and remember, reviews make the world a better place!


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